The DHS Study
by MA477LL
Summary: Jane accepted Casey's proposal. This takes place four years later. Eventual fluff and Rizzles.
1. Chapter 1

**The DHS study (Part 1)**

**Summary: **Jane accepted Casey's proposal. This takes place four years later. Eventual fluff and Rizzles.

**Pairing**: Jane/Maura

**A/N: **Obviously, I don't own the rights to these characters. No copyright infringement intended.

xxx

CHAPTER I

Proper scientific enquiry demands rigorous hypotheses testing.

In Maura's well-ordered world there are no such things as hunches, guesses, or leaps of faith. Everything that comes to be fits within a certain probability distribution. Of course, it may not always be easy to predict ex ante the precise shape of the underlying function, or even the probabilities attached to each outcome, but Maura prides herself that she can always gather sufficient ex post evidence to get a good understanding on any phenomenon.

_Well. Perhaps not any. _She thinks as she stares at the results on the screen.

She has to submit her conclusions on gender differences in stress and copying styles in the work force to the Department of Health and Safety within a month, and she is starting to doubt that she can meet the deadline.

And that is simply unacceptable.

She meets her deadlines.

_Always_.

She frowns minutely as she glares at the computer and the latest MATLAB output. The frown alerts her to a myriad of unconscious activations in her sympathetic nervous system that are certainly not helping. She breathes in and out slowly, forcing herself to relax her posture, making a conscious effort to re-arrange her limbs, so that she sits more comfortably on the chair.

Perhaps she should amend that: She always met her deadlines _before_ Jane.

She exhales slowly.

There is simply _no_ understanding Jane.

And she is not sure why she is yet to reconcile herself to this idea, because it is certainly not novel.

It is irrational of her. But she is seemingly stuck. In this, and perhaps, in a number of other things in her life.

And if there was no understanding Jane_ then_, when they had been the best of friends, and Maura had daily data on Jane's behaviour, there is certainly less of a chance _now_, after the years apart have driven such a wedge between them. And it is not that she cares _per se_ because Maura understands life and all its turns. She knows that low probability events that can make someone reassess all their pre-conceived notions occur deceptively often.

Point in case: Jane's acceptance of Casey's proposal.

_How is that ridiculous saying?_ She wonders as she lets out another long breath, regulating her breathing to a pattern that will help relax her. _Liquid under the bridge?_ Surely that cannot be it. _There is always liquid under bridges. At least, one should expect so if they have been carefully planned and are not a waste of public resources._

She shrugs her shoulders.

Whatever the saying.

She is definitely past it: The shock of Jane's acceptance, the beautiful white dress, the handsome groom and lovely bride, the too-rich chocolate cake that gave Maura a horrible indigestion, and of course, the tasteful and intimate wedding ceremony.

_All of it._

Or, she acknowledges; if she is not, enough time has gone by that those events are sufficiently far removed from her present problem.

_Three years, eight months and twelve days_, to be precise.

Not that she is counting.

Not consciously, anyway. It is just that she _knows_. As if she had an internal clock with huge flashing red numbers tickling away in a little corner of her mind. And, in a way, she does not mind the permanent clock: it obviously indicates she has significant unoccupied brain power.

But it is not _that_ what worries her today. It is simply that Jane is wrecking her dataset. She should have never been chosen for this study. If Maura had selected the sample-, but, no.

_No._

She shakes her head.

No, there were very good reasons to include Jane, of course. This being a study on gender differences in the BPD, and Jane being the most successful female detective by any case closure standard, she could simply _not_ be excluded.

She already knew the detective to be deceptively complex. But this is simply ridiculous. For the past week, whenever Maura decided that she had finally uncovered a pattern in female behaviour, the extreme standard deviation around said behaviour created by the data entries from Jane's case have indicated that her conjecture must simply be wrong.

Of course, it is not just in this that Maura finds Jane mystifying.

She could never understand how Jane could so easily flip: run hot and cold, be hard and soft, speak harshly and sweetly, punch like a kick boxer and run her fingers over someone's skin with a feather touch. Maura had spent time all those years ago puzzling over how Jane could laugh louder than anyone she had ever been around but cry softer, strut around like a runway model in her softball outfit but trip all over herself in a fine dress.

How she had used to have absolutely no patience for Maura's scientific processes, but also, all the time in the world for _her_.

How she had gazed at Maura like she was an incomprehensible puzzle, and also, like she knew precisely how all the pieces fit together.

And, of course, therein always lay the problem, Maura knows.

Jane had _seen_ Maura.

And Maura had never been seen before. Not like Jane saw her. Not with that intense, pure clarity that reached all the corners where she had tried to hide. Not with hints of amusement, and admiration, and friendship, and she had thought, perhaps _more_.

It had made Maura aware of just how desperately she had wanted to be seen.

And then, of course, there had been Maura's own reactions to Jane. They had been equally perplexing. She had simply been unable to catalogue the emptiness and pain she had felt when Jane had decided to marry Casey and take a leave of absence, follow him to Afghanistan.

She had not understood why, suddenly, her own job as ME at the BPD had felt significantly less rewarding.

She could not explain it to herself without examining something she had forbidden herself to think about. Self-preservation, of course, being the _one_ thing that could acceptably come before scientific inquiry where Maura Isles was concerned.

When Jane had married Casey and left Boston, Maura had closed off a part of herself. Perhaps, permanently. It was her training as a doctor. Sometimes, she knew, to save a life, a limb must be lost. A part of the body must be shut off, to prevent the death of precious body organs. If she were inclined to analyse what had happened in those weeks after Jane's departure, she would had probably described it as her body shutting down on itself, to guarantee survival, even if what survived was slightly less than what had previously existed.

Yes. Survival and self-preservation were among the strongest forces in nature.

Survival in moving.

In moving through whatever live throws her way.

When she cares to think about it, Maura wonders if she learnt that in medical school or from Constance. Her unflappable, always composed mother, who could move through any situation without as much as batting one of her long eyelashes. Like that one time she had found Maura in bed with her room mate and asked her at what time she was meeting Garrett in the evening, whilst at the same time offering to have John drive Mandy back home.

Yes. Maybe she learned that particular skill from Constance.

And Maura _had_ moved forward, eventually: to Quantico, where she could offer her expertise, immerse herself in challenging work without the reminder of the reprieve those years in Boston, with Jane by her side, had offered in an otherwise lonely life.

She only came back to Boston six weeks ago.

She is not sure if she knows why precisely she came back. Just that one day she woke up, filled in the transfer request form she had kept on the top drawer of her office for months, and packed all of her belongings.

She had not kept in touch with Jane or any of the others very well over the years. That was her fault more than Jane's. Jane had tried her best to keep in touch. She had e-mailed Maura regularly, sent her text messages, tried to phone her, or skype with her. She had even visited. But Maura had just been terribly busy and time had simply flown by. They had only seen each other three times since Jane came back from Afghanistan.

Every time, it had been Jane visiting.

Every time, Maura had struggled to find a way out of her shuttered self.

A way to meet Jane _halfway_.

She had failed every time: the problem with Maura had always been that she was incapable of doing anything in half measures.

Of course, she had known that Jane's marriage had not even made it past its second anniversary, and that Jane had gone back to Boston almost immediately, but it had taken Maura almost two more years to find her way out of Quantico and back to the BPD.

She could have transferred back sooner.

They all knew it.

Still, they had received her with open arms: Korsak, Susie, Angela, Frankie, Tommy.

_Jane._

Jane had hugged her with a strength that nearly made her faint from the lack of air.

Maura had not known where to put her hands on Jane's back.

She had awkwardly patted Jane's shoulders and pushed away.

She was outwardly the same, Maura. A bit older, a few more lines around her eyes and mouth, but she was still polite, and kind, and beautiful, and fashionable, and too intelligent for her own good.

She was an _entirely_ different person.

She was cold, and distant, and detached.

Police officers that had not known her from her previous time at BPD had immediately started to refer to her offices down in the morgue as Siberia.

Maura frowns again. _It is entirely inaccurate to refer to the morgue as such. _The temperature in the morgue is always kept at precisely 17.6 degrees Celsius, which could in no way be considered that cold.

She shakes her head.

She will never finish this study if she keeps daydreaming like this.

She dismisses the past and focuses back on the data, on the screen, on the need for rigorous hypotheses testing.

The need to understand Jane, and maybe, in understanding Jane, understanding herself.

xxx

"Maura!"

Maura looks up, surprised. Jane is standing behind her laptop, on the other side of the high table, frowning slightly. The look on her face also reflects that hint of amusement that was never uncommon in years past.

There is also concern, or perhaps sadness. Whatever it is, it is new. Maura is not so good at reading Jane any more.

But now, she regards her carefully. Jane has aged more than Maura in their years apart. She is too thin, white hairs mixing with her dark locks. Her beauty is undiminished however. If Maura and Jane were still the friends they used to be, Maura would insist Jane let her help cover those white hairs. Not that Jane would had ever let Maura play around with her hair, but Maura would had insisted and maybe, she would had convinced her. She would had also insisted that Jane eat better, that she sleep longer.

"Are you ok, Maura?" Jane asks; her voice soft, almost timid.

"Yes." She thinks it over for a moment and nods, "yes, I am fine. Did you want something?"

"No." Jane shakes her head slowly, her left shoulder lifting, hands moving as she speaks. "I was just worried. I've been calling your mobile for the last thirty minutes or so, and you weren't answering, so I decided to come downstairs to see if everything was fine." She tries to catch Maura's eye, but the other woman still looks a bit spaced out.

"You sure you're ok?" Jane insists.

"Yes, I was just pondering whether I am using the correct paradigm in setting up my hypotheses." She explains, pointing with a well-manicured finger at a number in her computer screen.

"What?" Jane asks, confused. "Is this about a case?"

Maura finally looks her in the eye. "Not a case. It is just- well. I have been unable to obtain irrefutable proof when testing a set of hypotheses I have developed, and I am now wondering whether I should be using a different theoretical background." She nods to herself, again lost in thought. "Yes, perhaps that is the issue. I might have used incorrect assumptions in setting up my model and that is why I keep obtaining irreconcilable data."

Jane is silent for a moment. "I understood data out of all that." An eye roll and a quick smile are followed by a low, "maybe."

"Well, when I try to test a hypothesis, I must fix a certain number of things. If I allow for everything to co-vary, I could never draw any conclusions." Maura says, like that explains anything.

Jane regards her in silence for a moment, her head tilting to the side. Long dark curls falling over her shoulder. "Ok." She gives Maura a soft smile, "Ok. I see you are deep in thought in that big brain of yours."

The smile turns almost tremulous as she regards Maura.

Jane simply loves how smart Maura is. How, sometimes, she cannot follow what she is saying at all.

It is just one of the many things that had always made her feel fortunate that someone like Maura would decide to spend time with someone like her, a blue-collar hot-headed American-Italian that never even went to University. Some days, it had made her feel like she was ten feet tall, to have such a smart woman listen to what _she _had to say.

She misses those days with an intensity that is almost paralyzing.

Jane walks back towards the door. "I only wanted to know if we're still up to review the notes on the Martin case tomorrow. We're done upstairs, so I thought I'd go home early. Get some chow, you know. Maybe clean up my apartment a bit," She winces. "The place's a pigsty, Maura."

That makes Maura look up. "Oh. We can meet at my place if you'd prefer?"

It is the first time that Maura has agreed to go to Jane's place in all these weeks and Jane is teenage-like, over-the-top excited about it. She is trying to act nonchalantly, to play it cool. Like this is no big deal, but she knows she is failing miserably. She wants everything to be perfect.

She wants Maura back in her life.

And she does not want to go to Maura's place. She wants Maura to have an out, if she needs to leave. She knows that Maura is not yet herself around her. If they meet at Maura's, she would not have an easy way out, and she never wants Maura to feel trapped.

She had been to Maura's place when they helped her move back in.

Jane had always been attuned to all of Maura's moods. She may have possibly misinterpreted them at times, but she always noticed them.

Sadly, there was no mistaking how uncomfortable they had made Maura.

She had detected Maura's timidity around them. How rigidly she had held herself, how much energy it had obviously taken her to be around them.

On the wall, easily visible from the entrance, Jane had seen a framed picture, one that had not been there the last time she was at Maura's. It was from the day of Jane's wedding. Maura must had placed it there at some point during the months that she stayed in Boston before transferring to Quantico. It was of all of them: Jane, Casey, Angela, Korsack, Frost, Frankie, Tommy, Susie, and of course, Maura. Maura was at the end of the picture, standing next to Angela. Smiling, but staring off into space, holding herself a bit apart. Angela was looking at Maura, a slight frown on her face. All the others were smiling at the camera.

It had made Jane uncomfortable that Maura would place a picture from her wedding in such a prominent place, that she would choose that particular one. She had not dared to ask, but she had made Angela ask. When she reported back on her findings, Angela could only tell her what Maura said. "It helps me to have it there. I find it easier to be when I remember there are times and places in life."

Jane could not figure out what she may have meant by that.

Probably Angela misunderstood her.

Yes, tomorrow she'd rather meet Maura at her apartment, so she thinks quickly, trying to find a reason to avoid going to Maura's place.

"I really need to clean up, Maura, and having you visit is an incentive to do it," Jane smiles as she opens the door to the morgue, ready to leave, before Maura can change her mind and cancel on her.

"Well. I guess I should be grateful that you are considerate enough to clean up for me." Maura says primly. "Although I must say that I never noticed that you had such concerns in any prior visits."

Jane just laughs at that, happy that Maura is engaging a bit with her. That she is acknowledging they have a past together.

She raises her hands up defensively. "Ok, so that was a lie. I just ran out of clean stuff to wear and need to do a _lot_ of laundry. So, my place?" She asks, smile big, dimples showing.

"Your place. I will bring the files." Maura agrees.

"Great," Jane smiles at her for a moment longer, lingering by the door before departing with a small wave and a quick, "see you tomorrow, then."

Maura stares at the closed door for a few seconds before she turns back to her data. Her eyes scan over the screen again. She opens the original file and runs a few descriptive statistics, examining the distributions yet again. There must be something she is missing at the very beginning, and that is why she cannot follow through, but she cannot pin it down.

It is an unpleasant idea, but she might have to remove Jane from the study, isolate her case as an outlier and exclude her from her conclusions.

Her eyes narrow as she notices something. The biggest anomaly in Jane's behaviour is under unwanted advances. One common type of stress related problems link to such issues. Unexpected or unwanted attraction is not uncommon in the work place. Maura had not analysed that subsection of the data in detail as she had gathered sufficient evidence on that issue from the other subjects. But now that she is looking, she notices that Jane had shown absolutely no reaction to those tests. She scored a zero in all five dimensions.

"How can that be," she mumbles as she reaches for the phone.

She only has to wait a moment. "Hello, it's Dr. Isles. Could you please bring Detective Jane Rizzoli's file from the gender differences study?" She listens for a moment to the woman on the other end before thanking her and hanging up.

Throughout the three months that the data gathering part of the study had lasted, Jane had to be measured across five dimensions related to this issue. This part of the study was directly sent to them by the Department of Health and Safety, and as she had not been back to Boston until nearly two months after the start of the study, she had not really followed up on this, beyond a customary look at the instrument submitted to her office by the DHS. It covered five constructs (two non-verbal dimensions, two verbal and one physical), and each of the constructs a number of variables.

For some reason, and according to this data, Jane had flat lined in those tests.

"Dr. Isles?" Susie walks in with a folder in her hand.

"Hi, Susie, I am looking at the raw data from the study and I cannot understand how Detective Rizzoli scored a zero across all of these dimensions." She points with her finger at the data, as Susie leans in closer to the computer.

Maura reaches for the folder and shifts through the documents it contains; quickly finding the one she is looking for.

"She signed her consent to being tested on these five dimensions, but all I see are zeros. How is that possible?" She asks.

Susie eyes widen for a moment as she looks at the page Maura is holding. Then, she turns it around to show Maura what is written there.

_On being informed that testing would be carried out by Senior Criminalist Chang, subject refuses to participate in this part of the study. All answers are thus set to zero, given that MATLAB does not permit missing observations. The original scale was from 1 to 7. A zero score helps to identify these values as missing._

"She refused?" Maura asks, worried.

Susie only nods.

"But, why would she refuse?" she asks, brows drawing closer.

Susie is silent for a moment. "Dr. Isles, have you read the instructions on how this part of the study should be conducted?"

Maura stops for a moment. "Well, I looked through the instrument briefly when I took over the study five weeks ago. It appeared to be a fairly blunt assessment tool. Indeed, very subjective if I must be entirely truthful. But I do not recall anything that would explain why she would refuse to take part."

"It is really unfortunate that we have such limited resources at BPD. We should not be involved in this study. Human resources should have taken care of it." She adds.

Susie is silent for a very long time after that. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she finally comes up with an answer.

"Maybe you should ask Detective Rizzoli?" She says.

Maura nods absently. If she must remove Jane from the study at the very least she should provide full data on her case. Perhaps the DHS, when putting together all the data across administrations, can make sense of her case, in a bigger sample.

She must complete at least this part of the study, regardless of whether she thinks it is a waste of resources.

She looks through the instructions. She goes through the list of items. It all seems fairly straight forward.

According to the instructions, the researcher must apply a number of cues in succession and repetitively over a period of six to eight weeks, and then, ask the subject to grade her discomfort on a Likert scale of 1 to 7. The researcher must also grade her or his perception of the subject's level of discomfort to each of the items on a scale of 1 to 7.

"Yes. I recall now why I thought this was a rather blunt instrument." She says to Susie, a clear note of criticism in her voice. "But we must of course endeavour to provide a full dataset to DHS." She adds.

Susie lifts an eyebrow. "It is unlikely that she'll allow me to test her."

"Yes, I can see that. I will take care of this, Susie. Do not worry. We will report to DHS that, for this subject, there was a different researcher applying the instrument. They can decide what to do with the data and I will remove Detective Rizzoli from our final conclusions. At this late stage it is the only viable solution, I fear."

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to run the tests?" Susie asks.

Maura considers the question for a moment. "Yes. I do not see why this should be a problem. I will of course inform Detective Rizzoli that we will be carrying out the tests before conducting the examination. Do you hold any concerns about the validity of the data gathering process?" Maura respects Susie's input. Susie has a sharp mind and has always been an asset to her team here.

This is not a conversation Susie wants to have with Maura Isles, but she feels, as a researcher, she must point out that Maura is likely to be unable to remain unbiased, or what is worse, that her presence may affect the results. "Well, you are good friends with Detective Rizzoli…" she says, hoping Maura will understand without need for her to explain in detail.

"You are concerned about my objectivity. Certainly this could be an issue, but I am confident that our personal history shall not interfere with the collection of data. We have an almost exclusively professional relationship these days, but I can understand your concern that our previous familiarity could pose a problem in terms of my grading Detective Rizzoli's reactions, but I _am_ an expert in reading body language. That should compensate any bias that I may subconsciously have."

"Well, but that is, huh. I-," Susie tries to say that the whole point is for the subject to experience _unwanted_ advances, and that she is not sure if that would be the case here. She has seen the painfully hopeful look on Jane Rizzoli's face whenever Dr. Isles is around.

She looks at Maura for a long time in silence.

She cannot say it. Much as she wants.

If the data is indeed corrupt it will be easily identifiable by the DHS by adding a dummy variable to indicate that a different researcher applied the instrument. Perhaps, she thinks, on a completely unscientific way, this may be good for them both.

She misses the old Maura too.

"You are right, Dr. Isles. I'm sure it will be fine." She finally says.

"Of course it will." Maura concludes with finality.

xxx


	2. Chapter 2

**The DHS Study (Part 2)**

**********Warnings:** I do not want to trivialize harassment in the work place. So I am adding a warning, just in case. This story is DEFINITELY not about that, and there is nothing of that in it, but I'd rather err on the side of caution.

xxx

CHAPTER II

"What are you doing?" Angela steps into the flat unannounced.

Uninvited.

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Jane Clementine Rizzoli, are you _cleaning_?" She is loud enough to wake the dead, or, at the very least, ancient, deaf, Mrs. Tampelli, her nosy next-door neighbour. When Jane is not feeling very kind, she thinks Mrs. Tampelli is already halfway to mummification.

"Ma! Is not _that_ surprising. I clean every week, you know?" Jane grumbles. She points an accusing finger at Angela, "and I only gave you the key for emergencies. Emergencies, Ma! I could've been in here with someone."

"Oh, please. You haven't had anyone in here since you came back from Afghakastan and Kirikistan-, Kizykistan-, Kirkizy-, those Middle East countries Charles dragged you to." Angela answers back darkly, frowning as she thinks of that mess of a marriage.

"Afghanistan and Kyrgyzstan," Jane corrects. "And _Casey_ didn't drag me. It was my idea to go with him." She says, voice low.

Angela knows that, of course. It does not change what she has to say.

"I don't know what you were thinking when you decided to do that, Jane. I cannot understand it for the life of me." She shakes her head as she starts moving things around the house. "My good friend Carla Talucci doesn't either, if I must tell you. Why, her daughter, Sophia, you remember her from when she was little? she had a terrible lisp?"

Jane gives her a blank look.

"Well, she is also married to a man that is in the military. A nice Italian young man. Although now that I think about it, I believe his family is from _Naples,_" she lowers her voice as if that was a terrible shortcoming. "But, anyway, _they_ manage just fine with their marriage, Jane. She stays in Boston while he goes to all those horribly dry places with-"

"I'm not married any more." Jane interrupts, a bit of anger creeping into her voice.

"You didn't get an annulment. In the eyes of God-"

"I'm _not_ married, Ma!" She says. "I don't care what God or Carla Talucci or anyone else thinks!"

"Do not speak of God-"

"_Ma_!" Jane interrupts again, voice hard. There is a tremble, a rage in her voice that finally quiets Angela.

This is Jane's house, she will _not_ accept this. Not even from her mother.

Specially, not from her mother.

They stare at each other in silence for a long time.

Over the years, silence has become their true common ground. A truce of sorts. An acknowledgement of a thousand irreconcilable disagreements past, present and future. But also, a stewing. A recess, a tiny oasis in an ocean of unresolved arguments.

They have spent almost as much time inhabiting their silences as they have talking to each other.

And Jane wins at silence. At not saying what she should say. At saying other things. Things, that almost inevitably, turn out to be the _wrong_ things to say. And so, Angela is usually the first one to speak.

This time is no different.

She wants to question all the choices Jane has made in recent years. All the wrong turns she has taken. And for just a second, she is on the verge of forging ahead. Words full of poison rise from the pit of her stomach, rushing up until they almost choke her, colouring her neck and chest. But perhaps fortunately, they die on her throat when she remembers the anger, the tremble of a moment ago.

She changes the subject.

"Why are you cleaning on a Friday night, anyway?" she asks, hands on hips.

Jane is silent for a bit longer. Still upset with God, with Angela, with Carla Talucci and her idiotic Naples in-laws connection.

Most of all, with herself; but also: with Maura. Because everything in her life has to_ do_ with Maura.

_Crap_.

She cannot understand how or why, but the more she thinks about it, the more she is convinced that her decision to marry Casey had had _all_ to do with Maura.

"Maura is coming over tomorrow." She finally explains.

"Is she?" Angela claps her hands together in delight, smiling brightly. Her previous bad mood immediately forgotten.

"That is wonderful, Jane! She has been so lonely since she came back home. Are you two girls back to being good friends? Did you apply those techniques I told you about from my marriage counselling classes? Some of them were a bit out there, but a few were quite useful, like the toe massaging thing." She nods to herself.

Jane blinks. "We do _not_ need to massage each others toes, Ma."

"Well, it couldn't hurt, could it?" She asks. "Maura is the best friend you've ever had, Jane."

Jane rolls her eyes and turns towards the fridge, reaching for a beer. Trust her mother to cut directly to the bone.

Alcohol should help.

She takes a long sip of the beer and tries to shrug the whole thing off. It is always best never to let her family onto anything that is really dear to her. Angela knows, _sees_, enough as it is. And even if she means well, she can trust her mother to always find a way to use whatever she may tell her in some unexpected, highly embarrassing way down the line.

Jane will not acknowledge how much she misses Maura's friendship out loud. Not when she is alone, and certainly not to her mother. How she regrets ever moving away from Boston. How the time away from Maura only made her best friend even more the centre of her life. How she needs to make things work, between herself and Maura, more than she needs to keep breathing.

But some things can never be said out loud. Because voicing them breathes live into them. Turns them real. Gives them power over Jane's waking moments and her sleepless nights.

"You should make more of an effort, Jane." Angela continues to nag. "She is such a lovely girl, and her family never visits."

Her mother would know that, too. For reasons Jane has never really understood, Angela still lives in Maura's guest house.

"I know that, Ma, but she keeps to herself." She tries to appear nonchalant. _She has pushed me away,_ Jane wants to say, but instead she says, "you know she is very independent."

Angela does not reply and just keeps helping with the cleaning, applying herself to the task with her usual energy.

It is only much later, when Angela finally kisses her daughter goodbye and opens the door to leave that she tells Jane.

"You be good to Maura, Jane. You broke that girl's heart when you married Charles."

xxx

On Saturday, Maura arrives exactly at noon. She is wearing a black Chanel dress that hugs her curves without flaunting them, under a thick grey trench coat cinched at the waist. Her hair is a somewhat wind-blown, but very much in place. Jane notices that she wears it a bit shorter and with more curl than she used to. It suits her. Her cheeks are a nice, rosy pink from the low temperatures outside.

She is beautiful. As always.

Jane wants to hug her, touch her in some way, but she hestitates and the moment passes her by.

Maura looks around the flat, eyes curious, taking everything in. "I see you have not made many changes to the décor." She murmurs as she takes off her coat, a bit of humour entering her voice. Jane only gives her a small smile in acknowledgement of the gentle jibe.

Then, it is Maura who hesitates, coat in hand.

There was a time when she would have known where to hang the coat, when she would have felt enough at home to just walk to the hanger and place her coat there. A time when she had felt like she could barge into this room and drag Jane to the bathroom to change her clothes and attend a formal BPD event.

But now, standing in the middle of Jane's living room, that time feels long gone.

Perhaps lost forever.

And it is not the flat. Jane's apartment looks exactly the same, the red coach, the low table, the knick-knacks from life enjoyments that Maura can hardly imagine.

Yes, the flat is the same.

It is Maura that is different.

For whatever reason, Jane's marriage and subsequent departure made her overly conscious of places and people, of situations. Where she had been oblivious to many social cues, they suddenly became obvious: Impossible to ignore. She felt like she had very possibly misinterpreted a significant portion of her life.

Most of her social interactions had suddenly felt like they were based upon wrong perceptions. She had become aware of a frightening gap between her view and reality. It had made her doubt everything about her life.

She had realized that for most of her adult life, she had lived firmly inside her own head, perhaps comically unaware of the world outside.

"Here," Jane says, reaching for the coat. "Please, take a seat. Would you like anything to drink?"

Jane hates to be so formal with Maura, but she is nervous. She wants everything to be perfect. She is wearing dark blue jeans that fit her snugly around the hips and a white button down shirt over a light blue tank top. Hair free. No shoes. With Maura on her three inch heels they are almost the same height.

Jane wants to look relaxed, comfortable. She wants to lure Maura out. Out of her head, away from the wall of politeness that she is using to stay hidden; to protect herself from the shadows of pain and confusion that the years apart have thrown over them both. Obscuring a friendship that, at its high, had shinned bright enough to scare away even the demons Hoyt brought into both of their lives.

Jane had dragged Maura out once, many years ago. It had simply happened. And over the course of the years she had built the best friendship, the most meaningful relationship of her adult life, by constantly chipping away at Maura's defences, until in the end, in those last few months before her decision to marry Casey and leave, it had been Maura who had been the rock, the solid ground in their shifting lives. It was Maura who stood firm, the sounding board to Jane's many doubts and ultimate mistakes.

It had made Jane upset then, that Maura did not ask her to stay. She had waited for it, waited to say yes to Casey. Hoped that Maura would ask her to stay. Would give her a reason to stay.

It had not happened.

In her mind, it had confirmed what she could never have, and so she had grabbed onto what she _could_ have.

She had broken three hearts in the process.

And now, now that she wants to lure Maura back into her life, Jane is not sure if she will know how to do it. This Maura is a hundred times more distant and distrustful than the old one had ever been. Gun shy from the wounds Jane herself had inflicted on her. Brave, gentle, sunny Maura, who had come out of her shell to befriend Jane, only to be left outside, standing alone.

It pains Jane to know this is all her doing. That she spoilt things with this wonderful woman.

She takes a step towards Maura, coat in hand, drawn to the other woman as much as she has always been.

Maura sits hesitantly on the sofa. She has read extensively about body language, and she knows what she is betraying by sitting on the very corner of the sofa, her back straight, not touching the back cushions.

She cannot help it.

She cannot stand it.

She rises back almost immediately. "I-, I cannot stay."

"What! Bu- but, why?" Jane asks, the hand that is not holding the coat reaching towards Maura, palm open, body moving slightly, unconsciously, to block the way. She looks around, as if she could find whatever it is that is amiss and fix it. As it that thing was something as simple as a chair, or a table out of place, and not four years of estrangement. "You just got here. And I-, I cleaned." She almost whines.

"I am sure you have. It is not a question of hygiene."

"Ok, then what?" Jane asks. This was supposed to be the first step in the rekindling of their friendship.

Maura becomes flustered, realizing she has made Jane upset. "I had something turn up unexpectedly." It is not a lie. She had not expected to feel so-, so... _endangered_ by being here. So out of place. So out of her element.

So uncomfortable for not knowing what to do with her _coat_ of all things.

So immediately thrown back into whatever it is that Jane and her _are_, when they are together.

She reaches for her bag and takes out a manila folder. "I wanted to come by and give you this," she passes Jane a folder with documents in it.

"Ok." Jane takes the folder but does not look at it. She is staring at Maura. "Is this from the Martin case?"

"Can I have my coat?" Maura asks.

Jane nods but does not move. Neither does Maura, and so she falls back to science: to the need for rigorous hypotheses testing.

"The folder contains information about a DHS study on gender differences on the work force. You signed up for it and gave your consent to being included as a subject a few months ago. However, you did not provide all the required data and I will need it before we can submit our results." Maura explains as Jane just shrugs her shoulders.

"This is a sensitive study, so I must ask you to read the information contained in that folder very carefully. Senior Criminalist Chang can answer any questions you may have on Monday. Otherwise, we will proceed with the scheduled tests as indicated in the information package." Maura nods her head towards the folder. "It is all briefly explained on the executive summary, but you may want to read the information about the tests. I will be conducting them unless you indicate a preference for a different tester?"

Jane nods, not really listening, placing the folder under her arm. "That's fine, Maura. Can't you stay just for a bit?" She asks, voice low, almost pleading. "I have tea, I bought the one that you like to-," she lowers her head as she corrects herself, a bitter smirk appearing briefly, "that you _liked_ to drink."

What does she know if Maura still likes that tea?

She sounds pathetic even to herself.

She feels pathetic, but if Jane has learned something in the years apart from Maura it is this: she is not above begging. Not above resorting to any means, really.

Maura hesitates, but then, she just shakes her head. "I think I'd rather go," she says softly, dropping eye contact.

"Ok," Jane answers, finally offering back the coat. "Maybe some other time?" She asks. She is close to tears and she feels stupid.

Maura reaches for her coat and puts it on. "Of course, some other time." She says, but it sounds formal. It sounds like something Constance would say.

She puts on the coat and moves past Jane.

She can hear Constance's voice. _Move through the moment, Maura darling. It is impolite to linger_.

She hates to leave like this.

She stops and regards Jane.

Jane looks... _beaten_. Her shoulders lowered, her face turned away, a curtain of black hair obscuring her always expressive eyes.

Then, Maura does something unexpected. It is just one of her many oddities: she almost always does the unexpected.

She reaches up. She moves a lock of black hair away from Jane's face, pushing it behind Jane's ear.

The touch is intimate: almost a caress.

It is something Maura thought was no longer possible between them, but somehow, it happens.

It feels right.

Uncomplicated.

She lets her fingers slide over Jane's tangled locks, her fingers tugging lightly at the bottom. When she rises her eyes, she looks directly at Jane's wide open eyes.

"Some time soon, Jane," she says as she lowers her hand even further, resting it on Jane's forearm for a moment and giving Jane a small smile.

Then, she walks to the door and without turning back, departs.

When she closes the door she stops to catch her breath. Her hand shakes slightly, and she touches it to her chest, feeling the thumping of her heart against her ribcage.

Maybe the old Maura is not buried so deep underneath, after all.

On the other side of the door, Jane throws the folder on the coffee table, the files sliding over the top and falling on the floor, under the arm chair, already forgotten. Then, she rubs her forearm, where Maura's fingers touched just a moment ago, and reaches up to move her unruly hair out of her face. A smile covers her face as she lets her head rest on the back of the couch.

It is the first time Maura has called her Jane, or touched her first, since she came back to Boston.

xxx

"Rizzoli."

Jane listens intently, her face twisting. "Crap." A hiss. "Ok, we are on our way. Keep the information to the press at a minimum."

She turns to Korsak. It's only 8.15 AM on Monday morning, but they both know homicides do not stop during the weekends. If anything, they increase. People get angsty when they have time to spare.

"They have found the body of a young boy in Ponkapoag Pond. The MO appears to be the same as in Charles Martin's case," she sighs, reaching for her jacket as she explains.

They had found Charles' body in Whitmans' Pond six months ago. Since then, they had not really been able to make much headway. Just dead ends everywhere. His case one of the few they had not been able to solve. Unsurprisingly, Maura's absence had meant a significant drop in the case solving efficiency of BPD. Jane had high hopes for some of her cold cases now that Maura was fully back on board.

"Damn it," Korsak mumbles as he also stands.

For a moment, Jane turns towards the space where Frost would had been, almost calling out his name.

It is yet another absence Jane has had to reconcile herself with since coming back to Boston. In a way, her departure had started the disappearance of their small group. She only realized it when she came back: how little there was left to come back to.

She turns to Korsak with a frown. The look on his eyes tells her he knows. He sees. He understands. He misses Frost, too.

The whole damn office is full of ghosts. Shadows of what used to be.

"Tell Frankie to join us at the scene." She almost barks.

Korsak only nods, already on the phone with dispatch, getting all the details.

xxx


	3. Chapter 3

******The DHS Study** (Part 3)

A/N: I am really trying not to move this at a snail's pace, but the characters refuse to let me rush them.

xxx

CHAPTER III

They take Korsak's car. It takes them almost an hour to get to the scene. The ride is spent mostly in silence except for the interruptions from both of their phones, getting updates from dispatch on who is at the scene and what little can be learned from their initial reports.

They have been investigating Charles Martin's family, friends, acquaintances, teachers, and class mates in the last few months, but with little success. Just dead ends everywhere. This may explain why. If there is some kind of serial killer at work in the area, they will need to think about this case from a completely different angle.

"You think this has something to do with Charles Martin's case?" Korsak asks as they exit the car.

"I hope not."

Korsak only grunts in reply.

It is a shitty day already and it is not even 10 am. He should had just eaten that second chocolate doughnut for breakfast.

_Stupid diet._

Maura is at the scene when they get there. She is wearing a thick winter coat and a Liz Claiborne grey wool two-piece suit over a black silk blouse and black boots. No skirt today. Probably her concession to the low temperatures and having to work in what is basically a forest. Still, she looks like she just stepped out of the cover of the latest issue of Vogue, special edition for professional women. Both the coat and the pants a perfect fit for her womanly shape.

Maura moves towards them when she spots them.

"Good morning, Detectives."

"Hi, Maura."

"Hello, doc."

It is probably just Jane imagining things but, for a moment, she thinks that Maura gives her a once-over, checking out what she is wearing. It is certainly not an uncommon occurrence between them. Maura has given her, over the years, as much fashion advice as she would want to receive in six lifetimes.

Almost without thinking, Jane smooths the lapels of her dark brown jacket, reaching up to straighten the collar of her blue shirt. She wonders if Maura remembers that she told her blue looked good on her. Or if she can tell that Jane did not iron the shirt before deciding to wear it this morning.

She rolls her eyes at herself.

Of course Maura can tell. She would be able to spot a wrinkle on Jane's under shirt from two States away.

Whether she chooses to comment or not is a different story. And strangely enough, Jane desperately wishes she did. In fact, she finds herself wishing for all kinds of ridiculous things. She wants Maura to tell her not to drink so much coffee, and to iron her shirts, and to eat more vegetables.

Maura is courteous and nice to them both. The perfect professional, as usual, but also, Jane thinks that maybe she makes eye contact for a bit longer and smiles a little more sincerely than she has in previous weeks.

The boy is young, very young; perhaps not even six. Fortunately, like last time, there are no obvious signs of sexual abuse, but still, it hits them all hard.

"So what do we know, Maura?" Jane asks.

"Young boy, five to seven years old. It is difficult to say how long he was in the water, but given the amount of ice over him, he must had been here for days, maybe weeks. The body looks well preserved, so it probably froze relatively quickly after being submerged. I will not be able to tell you much more until we gather some samples and take everything to the lab."

Jane just nods and lets Maura do her work. They have much to do and there is no time to lose, really: Identifying the boy, getting in touch with the parents, starting the interviews, gathering the initial evidence, preparing the preliminary list of suspects. It is a long list of tasks just to get started, and time is of the essence: reaching witnesses before they forget important details. Combing the area before key evidence is lost forever.

The day passes by slowly. It is terribly cold outside, by the water.

They soon get a name. The child: Matthew Parr, had been missing for nearly five weeks before an ice fisher found him this morning. It means that this is also, potentially, a kidnapping case. It does not take long for the FBI to show up. Just one more thing to deal with. Jane does not care for the FBI as a rule. But there may be young kids at risk here. She will work and play nice with any and all alphabet agencies if it brings them closer to solving the case.

She will even deal with Agent Dean if it comes to it.

Still, she prays to a god she is sure _never_ listens that it will not. Dean is the last thing she needs right now.

It is much later when she finally gets to talk to Maura again. Her breath visible in the cold afternoon. It is the kind of day Jane loves. Cold and sunny. She turns her head for a moment towards the sun, enjoying what little heat it can provide

"He's been missing since the 12th of November. Could he have been here all that time, Maura?"

"I will not know until I can examine him in the lab."

"I know that." Jane gentles her voice "I'm not asking you to guess, but is it possible?"

Maura blinks. "Well, considering the temperatures during the last few weeks, it is certainly a possibility." She confirms.

She points towards the water as she explains, "the ice where we found him is 12 inches thick at one end. To submerge him now, you would first need to break the ice. Then, it would freeze over the body again. Considering the regularity of the ice surface and its colour, I find that unlikely, although I cannot entirely discard that possibility right now."

She shrugs. "We will be able to tell if that was the case when we analyse the ice around the body in the lab. We are taking samples as far away as 10 feet into the water."

"Ok, that helps. Thanks." Jane looks around for a moment, "anything strange?"

"What do you mean?" Maura turns, giving Jane her full attention. "Statistically speaking, all deaths of children his age are strange, regardless of cause, in the sense that they are extremely rare. In fact, according to the latest published data from the department of health and human services, the percentage of children that die-"

"Did you notice anything out of place?" Jane cuts in before Maura can explain in detail the meaning of statistics that are only marginally relevant. "Anything that may help us start our investigation while you get the lab results?"

Maura moves minutely closer, as if drawn by... Jane frowns. By her _heat_. It is then that she finally notices that Maura is trembling visibly.

It is mid-afternoon, the sun having shyly made an appearance hours ago, but it is freezing by the water. They have been here for nearly five hours. Jane, Korsak and Frankie have been moving around, talking to people, going in and out of a nearby cabin where the police have set up camp, analysing the scene, the cars around, talking to the people from the Jewish congregation and the equestrian centre across the road.

Meanwhile, Maura has been mostly just waiting and standing by the body, gathering all the forensic evidence around it, supervising the operation, before finally deciding how deep to cut into the frozen water around the body.

She is almost numb with the cold.

"Are you finished here?" Jane asks before Maura can answer.

Maura only nods, in this light, her face looks very pale. Her lips slightly bluish.

"Come on," Jane says as she turns towards the road. "Let's talk where it's not so cold."

"I need to get back to the lab as soon as possible." Maura says, but she starts walking next to Jane just the same. Her movements slow, betraying just how cold she must be.

"It'll only be a minute," Jane says as she steers them across the road and towards the equestrian centre. The management there has kindly closed for the day to let them use their resources. There is a small kitchenette and office area that they have been using.

Maura walks slowly, balancing carefully on her impractically high heeled boots. She feels a bit like she is walking under water. When they reach the centre, just at the door, she wobbles slightly, bumping into Jane, who has one hand on the door and reaches with the other to grab Maura around the waist to help steady her, pulling her against her own body.

They touch only for a few seconds, but it leaves Jane breathless. She is immediately concious of the soft body pressed against hers: the feel against her side of all the bumps, and curves, and bones that make Maura Isles through layers and layers of clothing: hers and Maura's. It causes an immediate warmth, a flush that travels all over her body, heating her. Her hand trembles in Maura's back as she helps her through the door, ushering her towards a nearby chair.

Jane is not sure when she become so concious of Maura's presence, but it is certainly not a novel thing. It had started all those years ago, before her decision to marry Casey, but it is like the years apart has made her starved for contact. Increasing her desire to reach out, to _touch_ Maura in some way. Perhaps even to shake her. To make her _see_ Jane. Accept what she wants to offer. It makes things awkward for Jane, who often finds herself aborting her touches mid-motion, not sure if they will be received in the intention they are given.

Not sure what that intention is.

"There's no tea, Maura, but I'll get you some hot coffee, ok? That'll warm you up." Jane says.

Maura only nods, smiling at Jane.

Things are more comfortable here, on the job: She knows how to behave when she is Dr. Isles, the Medical Examiner. When Jane is Detective Rizzoli.

Despite all the police around, the kitchenette is almost empty. Jane gets them two cups of coffee quickly. She sits with Maura at a table by a large window that overlooks the road. "Sorry. It's instant." She apologizes with a small smile.

Maura makes a face but nevertheless accepts the offering. Once they are seated, Maura shifts so that she can sit closer to the heater under the window, holding the hot coffee between her hands.

Her move pushes her leg against Jane's, under the table.

It creates a pleasant warmth for Maura. Human contact is something that she has always craved.

It makes Jane almost sputter the coffee she is drinking. This is the most contact she has had with Maura in-, well, in _years_. The casual interaction almost brings tears to her eyes. The normalcy of being here, with Maura, talking about a case. It is something Jane thought she would never have again.

It is her second chance.

She is _determined_ not to spoil it.

Jane smiles to herself a bit as she lowers her eyes and drinks some coffee. She had almost forgotten the constant warmth, the constant ache in her chest that came with being around Maura. Over the years, she had grown afraid of that ache. Of what it meant. She had thought that time away could made it go away. And away it went. Only the hole it left was ten times worse than the pain had been.

She shakes her head and drops the coffee on the table, reaching up to untie her hair, combing her fingers through her long curly locks. It gives her something to do with her hands.

"Are you ok?" Jane finally asks. "You look really cold, Maura."

Maura nods. "Yes. I am fine. Thank you."

The words are the same Maura has been using every time Jane tries to talk to her lately, but this time, there is a different look in her eyes. A hint of a smile on her lips and around her eyes as she takes a cautious sip of her coffee.

"This coffee is terrible, Jane." She says. "But it helps." She is cold. Inside and outside, and the heater, the coffee, _Jane_. They help.

"Did you notice anything?" Jane questions, her chin pointing towards the water.

She has worked with Maura long enough to understand how unique her insights into the world are. Just like she fails to see things that would be obvious even to a kindergarten kid, Maura can see things that nobody else notices.

"His glasses." Maura says.

Jane waits for Maura to elaborate, but when she doesn't, she asks. "What glasses? He was not wearing any."

Maura just nods. "But the obvious depression on the cartilage of his septum would indicate that he usually did."

"Wha-. How can you know that his pet sepia was depressed?" Jane asks with a smile, purposefully misunderstanding. It is a game she has missed playing with Maura.

"His nasal septum," Maura explains as she reaches up and, surprising Jane, touches the top of Jane's nose, where it meets her forehead. "Here," she says as her fingers linger. "The slight depression there indicates that he used to wear rather heavy glasses. He must had been nearly blind without them."

Maura's fingers are cold, but her touch is not.

"Ok," it comes out so low it is almost a growl, and Jane has to clear her throat before she can continue. "Ok, missing glasses. Anything else?"

Maura shakes her head as she starts to push back from the table, her leg finally moving away from Jane's. "I should get going," she says as her eyes turn towards the road, looking at the now dying activity.

Jane is half dazed from the interaction with Maura, but she stands up and moves around the table, blocking the way. "You're freezing, Maura."

She nods. "I was out for a very long time, but it is fine. I could still feel the cold."

Jane frowns. Maura is still trembling.

"I am only experiencing mild hypothermia." Maura adds matter of factly.

"What-. Mild? Maura, let me take you home." Jane says decisevely. She reaches for her phone to call Korsak.

"I am fine, Jane. I only need to-,"

"Maura." Jane interrupts, holding a hand up. "I'm taking you back to your place. Now." Maura has not been hers to worry about for a long time, but here, now, she feels like she can finally reclaim a bit of all the ground lost between them.

"Korsak," she says into the phone, "we need to get going. Maura isn't feeling well." She pauses to listen for a moment. "We are at the equestrian centre, in the room where you had that massive burrito for lunch." Another pause. "It was disgusting, Korsak, I think your tie ate half of it." A smile. "Ok, see you in ten."

Then, Jane takes off her coat and places it around Maura's shoulders, careful not to linger. "Why did you not come out of the cold sooner?"

"Jane. This is really unnecessary, as I told you, I am only suffering from very mild hypothermia. My blood pressure and heart rate are well within acceptable-,"

"Acceptable?" Jane interrupts again. She is tempted to reach and rub Maura's arms over both of their coats, but she stops herself. She is standing too close.

It occurs to her it is probably the perfect corollary to all her interactions with Maura: _too damn close_.

Maura looks up at her, her eyes kind, questioning.

"Quite acceptable." Maura finally continues. She does not move away. "And I have to go back to the lab."

"Maura, you know those FBI know-it-alls won't release the evidence to our lab until at least the day after tomorrow. They'll want their team to go through it all. Mess around with the evidence."

"But I can start with the autopsy."

"Won't you have to defrost the body before you can do it?"

Maura is silent for a bit. "Yes." She admits.

"And what's the best way to defrost it?"

Maura is quiet again for a bit before answering. She can tell, from the look on Jane's face, that they both know the answer. "We should let it defrost as naturally as possible."

"And that'll take how long?" Jane prods.

"Given the current body temperature, we will have to defrost it slowly in a refrigeration unit at a steady rate. I will have to monitor the process, of course, but it could take up to a week. If we went any faster, the outside of the body would decompose while the inner organs remain frozen, and important evidence could be lost." Maura finally explains. "I have given careful instructions on how to proceed."

"I'm taking you home." Jane says with finality, moving towards the door, where Korsak already awaits.

xxx

When they reach Maura's house, Jane hesitates. She wants to go inside, but also, she wants to give Maura all the space she needs. She has to go back to the office, but this; _Maura_, she comes first. Korsak will send a patrol car to fetch her in a few minutes. She is about to say something. Ask Maura what to do, if she should wait for the car outside; but it is unnecessary. When Maura opens the door, she simply moves towards the kitchen, never turning back.

It is an open invitation to follow.

To step in.

To claim a space in Maura's house.

In her life, maybe.

There is nothing Jane wants more than that.

"I am going to prepare us a hot drink," Maura says. "I recently bought a blend of organic assam tea with a hint of tapioca and vanilla that should be perfect to help warm us up."

"Great."

Jane smiles with sincerity. She hates Maura's funny tasting teas but that ass-hat tea sounds wonderful right now. Anything to stay around Maura for a bit longer.

She approaches Maura. "Shouldn't you change into something warmer? Perhaps take a hot bath?" She asks.

Maura regards her for a moment in silence, her eyes taking all of Jane in. It makes Jane blush for reasons she does not want to examine.

Then, Maura blinks and smiles, "actually, a hot bath is not advisable in cases of hypothermia. Although as I told you, I am only experiencing very mild symptoms. But you are right, I probably should change out of these clothes." She turns slightly towards the stairs, "you would not mind if I left for a moment?"

It is rather bad manners to leave a guest alone at the kitchen when they are visiting.

Constance would not approve.

Maura frowns. She is not sure when, but Constance seems to have taken over her thoughts in recent weeks. It is something that had never happened to Maura before, this constant voice, this _presence_, in her head. She knows she is holding on to propriety a bit too tightly, even for her. It is just another sign of how much this move back to Boston has thrown her.

She needs to stop: Jane is _not_ a guest.

"No worries." Jane moves her hand vaguely, waving her long fingers towards the stairs. "Go put on something warmer, I'll keep an eye on the tea."

"There is no need to keep an eye on it, Jane."

Jane's smile gets a bit bigger. "I know, Maura. I know."

xxx

Maura only stays away for a few minutes. When she comes back she is wearing a thick robe over long winter pyjamas. Her feet are covered by bunny slippers with pink fluffy ears of all things. Seeing Maura in those slippers is probably the highlight of Jane's week.

Maura moves around the kitchen efficiently, serving them both tea.

"Nice slippers," Jane jokes.

Maura lifts her foot to show them off. "Do you like them?" She asks, a bit of the old childish glee showing. It reminds Jane of that time Maura intended to run the Boston Marathon wearing those ugly ass trainers. "They are very warm. I only found them on this shape, which is slightly unfortunate, but the actual design is rather clever, they are microwaveable."

Jane is on the verge of making a completely inappropriate joke about hot bunnies that she is sure will fly over Maura's head, but she only nods. "They suit you."

It is the truth.

Maura gives her a happy smile, "thanks."

"Here," she says as she passes Jane a mug, moving to stand by Jane's side, both of them leaning their backs over the large kitchen counter. Almost shoulder to shoulder. "Careful, it is very hot," Maura warns as she sips her tea.

"There's something wrong with my tea, Maura." Jane makes a face and turns her body slightly, showing her mug to Maura.

"Hmmm?" Maura leans over to have a look at it, putting her hand on the counter, behind Jane's back, her breast pressing into Jane's arm. "It looks fine to me."

Jane feels a blush steal across her cheeks but keeps perfectly still. She will not be the one to break the contact.

She will also _not_ look down.

Fine.

Maybe just a quick peek.

"It's bitter." Jane finally whines when Maura steps back, torn between disappointment and relief, "and black." She takes a sip and points an accusing finger at the kettle. "What was it called? Ass tea? It certainly tastes like it."

"Assam tea." Maura corrects. "And it is supposed to be black. I can give you more sugar if you want."

Jane shakes her head, still pouting.

Maura takes another sip of her tea to hide a smile. Then, she turns to look at the clock. "I guess you need to get back to the office?"

"Yeah. You know that we always get the best leads and evidence while the case is still hot." She winces as she thinks of the frozen boy, putting the mug on the counter and reaching up to rub her face. Jesus. "Not hot. You know what I mean."

"Of course." And Maura does.

Jane grabs her coat. Something in her expression switching, becoming entirely focused.

Maura knows it has started: the burn, the pushing. The drive to find out what happened, to give rest to loving family members, to solve the case and catch the bad guy. Jane needs to know what happened, she needs to understand who saw what. Make sense of it all. Talk to the witnesses, puzzle over all the evidence. Figure out how and why little Matthew ended up in the freezing water when he should had been getting ready for Christmas, waiting for Santa to bring him his presents.

"The team is so much better with you here, Maura." Jane says abruptly. She means it, with Maura on their team, they are very nearly invincible, but she means also so much more. She looks away as she puts on the coat. "I'm really glad you're back in Boston."

There are many reasons why she is happy Maura is back. She is just not ready to say everything yet.

"Me too, Jane." Maura nods at the taller detective.

"I will write my preliminary report based on my observations at the scene and send it to you as soon as possible. Will you call me later if there are any leads?" Maura asks as she walks Jane to the door: the patrol car is already waiting outside. She puts her hand lightly on Jane's elbow as the other woman walks through the door.

"Sure, I'll keep you updated." Jane steps outside and signals to the uniformed officer. "Thanks for the ass tea."

Maura smiles. "_Assam_ tea."

"That's what I said."

xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**The DHS Study (Chapter 4)**

A/N: Progress, I think?

xxx

CHAPTER IV

Jane calls her later that night to check on her, still worried about how cold Maura had been.

"Hey, Maura. It's me, Jane."

A pause. "Jane. Hello."

Jane hates that Maura sounds so surprised. "Hi," she says, voice low, tired.

There is a small pause. A second of adjustment. It has been years since they called each other this late in the night.

Jane had not really thought about it before calling Maura. It had been instinct. It is, after all, the one thing that has never failed Jane in all these years: her instincts. But now, listening to the silence stretching across the line, she wonders if she should have not called.

But no, _no_.

Her gut is right: this is another important step towards normalcy.

_Their_ normalcy.

"Did you make any progress with the case?" Maura finally asks. Her deeply ingrained manners helping her to be the one to break the silence.

"Not really," Jane says, relieved that Maura is talking. "Frankie identified a couple of potential witnesses, but we haven't got much to go on. The parents were devastated." A tiny hitch in her voice indicates how badly it must had been. Maura can sympathize. She knows how these things go down with families. "They were almost incoherent, Maura." She sighs as she recalls the Parrs, their grief, the picture they had brought with them of a vibrant tow-headed boy with big lime-green glasses, hugging his football. "You were right, by the way, Matthew wore prescription glasses to correct his hypertrophia."

Another silence.

"I-, I just wanted to know if you are ok, Maura." Jane says. "It was really cold by the water and you looked a bit like a grey popsicle."

"I am fine, Jane, although I think I resent the resemblance."

A soft laugh. "Ok." A breath. "I should let you rest. I-, well, I'm glad you're feeling better, Maura." There is no answer, so she rushes a bit after that, "I'm just going to close things here and go home."

"Have you had anything to eat all day?" Maura asks suddenly, before she can think of all the reasons why she should not pursue this line of conversation with Jane. "I have some vegetarian lasagne cooking in the oven. It may not be as good as your mother's, but I found this new recipe on the internet last month and I have been meaning to try it out and-"

Jane interrupts, "are you inviting me to come over?" She curses herself silently. She is too eager. Interrupting all the time.

"Well, if you would not mind trying a new recipe, then, yes." And then, reassuring perhaps both of them, "_yes_."

"I'll be there in twenty."

The line goes dead before Maura can respond. Before she can change her mind.

Jane is closing off her computer, reaching for her keys, and putting on her coat before Maura, across from town, hangs up the phone.

_Too damn eager, Jane_.

xxx

It is not comfortable, because this is something they did when they needn't think about how to behave around the other.

When they could just _be_ Jane and Maura.

But the awkwardness, the stretches of silence, the difficulty in meeting each others' eyes: They do not matter. It is the best time either of them has had in a very long time. Although they are stilted at times, it is not long until they find their marks. Like actors who have not performed a certain Shakespearean piece for a long time after having acted it together a hundred times in the past, they soon grow comfortable.

It is like their bodies know how to be around each other, even when they struggle.

After dinner, they sit on the sofa, almost an arm's length of empty space between them, but it is not long before Maura turns towards Jane, tucking her feet under her legs, her knees brushing the outside of Jane's thigh. It is at that point that Jane lets herself truly sink into the sofa, her forearm coming down to rest by her side, touching the side of Maura's knee, her traitorous fingers dying to caress the soft silk covering Maura's skin.

"Dinner was great. Thank you, Maura."

_I miss you. I am so happy to be here_. She wants to say, but instead, she says. "I even liked the kale you tried to sneak into it."

"There was no sneaking, Jane. It was a kale, quinoa, and avocado lasagne, and you barely touched it."

"I had double helpings of the second course."

Maura gives her a reproachful look, "I do not think ice-cream counts as a second course."

Jane only smiles and enjoys the moment. She is not sure when she figured this about herself, that eating a kale lasagne with Maura was a hundred times better than having the best meal possible with anyone else. It must had been around the time when she realised marrying Casey had been a mistake.

When she is not lying to herself, she admits that was right at the same moment she had said 'yes, I do.'

She shakes her head and regards the other woman. Maura looks adorably sleepy, with her head resting against the back of the sofa, hair a tad mussed and eyes half closed. Jane takes a deep breath and feels something twist inside her. A slow beat starting. It is the same one that seems to always be present when she allows her senses to really take notice of everything Maura makes her feel. She takes a moment now to _really_ look at Maura, letting her eyes roam all over her form, taking her in.

_God how I have missed this._

Just being like this with Maura.

Maura is wearing the same silk pyjamas and robe from before. She is turned towards Jane, her shoulder resting against the sofa, and creating a gap at the front of the robe. Jane can see a shadow of cleavage, a hint of softness and roundness that makes her swallow unconsciously. Before she can censor her thoughts she wonders what Maura may be wearing under the pyjamas.

She is looking so intently that she notices as a small shiver crosses Maura's body and goose bumps raise on her skin.

"Are you still cold?" Jane makes eye contact, her own body inching closer to Maura's on the sofa, drawn to the doctor.

"No. I-," she runs a hand over her hair, moving a few stray hairs away from her face. She reaches with her other hand to close the gap in the robe, obscuring Jane's view and making her blush. Knowing she has been caught staring. "I am fine, Jane. Just tired, I think."

Jane accepts that. "Me too. I should let you rest." She sighs as she stands, "that poor boy. Lying in the freezing water." She shakes her head as she reaches for her coat.

Maura accompanies her to the door for the second time that day.

"You will figure it out, Jane. You always do." Maura says, and for a moment, Jane sees in her eyes something that has not been there for a while.

_Trust._

Maura trusts her. It makes her feel ten feet tall.

Also, there is something else. Something old, but maybe, something _new_ as well. Something that maybe mirrors what is in Jane's eyes every time she looks at Maura.

Hope is a painful thing, Jane knows. And for a second, she feels the sting of it as acutely as if it was a needle piercing through her chest.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then, she nods towards Maura and walks into the cold night, forcing herself not to look back.

It feels like the temperature is higher than it was before.

Maybe it is Jane that is warmer.

xxx

Maura closes the door after her, careful to lock it.

She worries for a moment about Jane. It is a cold night and icy roads are always a threat in Boston this time of the year.

She tries not to think too much about the detective, but it is impossible.

The problem for Maura has always been that no person could truly ever hold her attention. Not fully. Her brain always working a dozen ideas at the same time.

It is why she has always found it helpful to meditate before she goes to sleep; to centre herself, but also, to quiet all the voices, all the thoughts.

Just now, she is concentrating on making herself a tea whilst she thinks about the paper she was reading before Jane called, but she is also listening, in a corner of her mind, to her favourite rendition of Casta Diva by Montserrat Caballé, and she is thinking about the latest MATLAB output from the DHS study, and the report she just wrote with the findings from the autopsy of that old lady they found the day before yesterday and who had died peacefully in her sleep, and how she needs to get the file on Charles Martin's autopsy first thing tomorrow and look at it before she can start preparing for Matthew Parr's and how she should have told Jane to drink at least half a litre of water before she went to bed.

_Jane._

As soon as she thinks of Jane, her mind clears.

The voices stop.

Even Montserrat Caballé, diva extraordinaire, knows to stop singing.

It is the most puzzling thing, really. Ever since she met her, Jane has always been able to quiet all the other thoughts on her mind.

When she is with Jane, Maura is in the now, in the present. Not lost in her mind thinking a dozen thoughts about the past and the present and the future, but _in_ her body. She feels her blood pulsing, her lungs breathing, her skin tingling at the slightest of touches.

It is amazing; scary, but wondrous.

It is maybe the reason why she cannot keep away. Why she came back. Why it is so easy to fall back into Jane's friendship. This feeling of _being_, of inhabiting her own body is something she has sought out her whole life. She has achieved it at times with others, particularly, when engaging in sexual intimacy.

Maura closes her eyes for a second and frowns.

With Jane, it happens _all_ the time.

xxx

It is a slow week after that first day. The FBI does not release any of the evidence to BPD until late on Thursday, and despite Jane's insistence and constant reminders, Maura decides that the body will not be ready to conduct an autopsy until the following Monday, at the earliest.

Much of the week goes by interviewing family members whilst Jane's bosses and the FBI discusses whom has jurisdiction over what precisely. Maura and her team spend the time preparing. Deep frozen tissues must be treated with the utmost care, she insists over and over again when she talks to Susie. The window to perform the autopsy being shorter than usual, the frozen tissues decomposing at an accelerated rate once they heat back to normal temperatures.

Jane goes by the lab every day, pestering Maura as she grows frustrated and impatient.

By Friday, she is ready to burst.

It is a truth long acknowledged by her and those around her that Jane Rizzoli does _not_ excel at patience.

It is a good thing Maura does.

"Dr. Isles," she answers the phone without checking who's calling, focusing on the text on the screen of her laptop.

"Maura, it's me," Jane sounds tired. She _is_ tired. It has been a long and frustrating week.

"Jane, what can I do for you?" Maura asks.

"Have you analysed the ice around the body yet?" She wishes she did not sound like a five year old on a trip asking her mummy if they are there yet every ten minutes, but she_ needs_ the results.

"We are still waiting for the results," Maura says distractedly as she reads on. "I told you this," she glances at her watch to check, "twenty-three minutes ago, when you last called. Also, fifty-seven minutes ago, when you called before that. I will call you as soon as I get them."

Jane is silent for a moment. "Sorry, Maura. We're just stuck without the forensic evidence."

"I understand. But there is nothing I can do to speed up the process."

"I know," Jane sighs as she runs her fingers over her face. "Are you busy?"

"I was reading the latest issue of the The American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology," Maura explains. "They have a fascinating article on sudden death by hydatid cyst. Did you know that it is commonly related to anaphylactic shocks?"

Jane perks up, "do you think that's what killed little Matthew?"

"What? Oh, no. It is highly unlikely. Commonly, people that die of hydatid cysts are in their early thirties."

"Then why are you telling me this?" Jane asks, sounding confused.

"Well, you asked what I was doing, Jane."

Jane stares at the phone in her hand for a moment, before she rolls her eyes at the ceiling and laughs softly. "Of course I did," she finally says, voice lower than before, warmer. There is something peaceful about talking to Maura. It calms her down. "Want to get a coffee? I was going to go get one... say hi to Ma. I haven't seen her all week and she has left a thousand messages on my phone." She holds her breath, hoping Maura will say yes.

Maura finally looks away from the screen and focuses on the conversation.

"Jane! it is past 4PM. I do not think you should drink coffee this late in the day!"

It makes Jane smile wider than she has all week. "See you at the café in fifteen, ok?" She hangs up before Maura can say no.

She knows Maura is too polite not to show up.

xxx

Jane reaches the café in time to see the end of it.

There is an uniformed officer. Officer Lopez she thinks is his name. He is standing behind Maura and across a deeply frowning Angela Rizzoli, who has both hands on her hips and is looking ready to jump over the counter. Maura is looking at the floor, golden locks falling over her face and partly obscuring her eyes. Lopez is laughing with his partner, pantomiming a deep shiver. It does not take a genius to realise he is implying that he is trembling because of the _cold_ that comes off Maura.

Jane knows the officers have taken to calling her lab Siberia, and that they like to joke about how everything freezes around the doctor. She had not realized they were doing it_ in front_ of Maura.

"Hey, Maura," she says. "Ma," she acknowledges the older woman. "Officer Lopez," she says as she reaches around Maura and grabs the man firmly by his tie, pulling. "You cold?"

"No-, no, I was just-" he starts to stammer, his face quickly losing its joviality as he bends his head, pulled down by the force Jane is exerting.

"It's kinda cold outside," Jane says. "Just a crappy day, really. You should tighten your tie before you go out, you know?" Her voice is low and hard; face grim. The dark edge of danger that is always with her more obvious than ever.

She reaches with her other hand and tightens his tie until it is nearly strangling him. Then, she lets go of the tie and pats his chest. "That should do. Gotta be careful not to catch a cold, what with the weather being what it is." She smiles at him.

_Daring_ him.

"Ugh. Thank-, thank you, detective Rizzoli," he croaks. His voice sounding funny as he struggles to breathe. Face quickly growing red.

His partner, another young uniformed officer that Jane has never seen before, finally reacts. He comes to his rescue. "We were just leaving," he says as he pushes Lopez towards the door. Then, he touches his hand to the brim of his hat in a show of respect. "Detective Rizzoli," a nod, "Dr. Isles," another nod, "Ms. Rizzoli," and with a final nod they are both gone.

A silence fills the café that speaks loudly to all who are present.

Jane stares around and makes eye contact with every single man and woman that dares to meet her eye.

Not everyone does_._

A few stand up and leave the café, not wanting to be associated with this incident in Jane's mind.

There will be no disrespecting Dr. Isles. Not unless the joker is willing to take on Jane Rizzoli.

_Message sent and received._

"Jane," Maura calls softly as she grabs her by the elbow. There is a lovely blush covering Maura's face and chest. She knows what Jane just did. She has never been as oblivious as others would like her to be.

Jane is tense under Maura's fingers. Still ready to confront anyone that would dare ridicule Dr. Isles.

Maura pushes her body into Jane, rubbing her arm and using her whole body to subtly guide Jane towards a table.

After a moment, Jane lets herself be led and turns to Maura as she sits down in one of the three stools placed around the table.

Maura is wearing a deep blue dress that stops at the knee and that looks like it has been painted on. Not much is left to the imagination. And Jane has discovered that she has a _vivid_ one where Maura is concerned. The cut of the dress shows a bit more cleavage than Jane would ever acknowledge noticing and the three inch heels she is wearing make her toned calves stand out.

"Let me get us something to drink," Maura says, "would you like anything to eat as well?" she asks.

When Jane shakes her head no, Maura turns and walks towards the counter, giving Jane a view from the back that is as impressive as the view from the front had been. Jane notices the sway of Maura's hips as she walks, how she smiles and gesticulates as she talks to Angela.

Jane knows she is staring.

As Maura finally turns with a coffee in each hand, Jane catches Angela's knowing look over Maura's shoulder.

_Crap._

She blinks hard and turns to look at the table.

There are two free stools on Jane's table, one across from her and the other to her right. Maura chooses the latter one, her legs immediately pushing against Jane's under the table.

Once she hands Jane the coffee, she reaches with a hand to cover Jane's right forearm.

"Thanks," Jane says as she takes the coffee.

"No," Maura shakes her head and makes eye contact, her thumb slowly caressing Jane's arm. "Than _you_."

"It's ok, Maura. He was just being an ass." She is tempted to say something else, but she refrains in the end. Not sure what she wanted to say anyway.

Jane is deeply aware of all the places where Maura is touching her. Her thigh, her forearm. She feels a slight flush travel over her body. Not for the first time, she is thankful for her dark colouring. She knows it will hide the flush. Perhaps not from Maura, the other woman notices _everything_ after all, but at least, it will from any curious eyes looking at them.

She takes a sip. "Ugh, Maura, this is decaf, isn't it?"

Maura just winks at her and gives her a happy smile, taking a sip of her own coffee.

xxx

It is not long before Angela walks to their table. "Jane, I'm glad you told off that man," she says loudly. "Such an unkind fellow. In fact, you should had also tightened his belt! Cut off the blood flow to his bal-"

"Ma!" Jane cuts in.

"What?" Angela says, blinking innocently.

"Can you not be so gross, Ma?" Jane hisses.

Maura pipes in. Always helpful, "actually, cinching his belt tighter would not really deprive his sexual organs from much blood, Angela."

Jane just covers her eyes with both hands. "Jesus."

"Why not?" Angela asks. Curious.

"Really?" Jane interrupts. "Ma, can you please, _please_, let us have a coffee? We were going to talk about a case."

"But I specifically told you that I do not have any results from the Parr case, Jane." Maura says, confused.

"Not that case, Maura," Jane says quickly. "Ma?" she asks again, eyes pleading.

Angela gives her daughter a moody look. "Fine! I know when I'm not wanted by my own children," she huffs and with a smile towards Maura and a frown for Jane, she finally departs.

"Jane, that was rude. Your mother was just curious." Maura says. "I can understand why. There are many misconceptions about how blood flows to sexual organs, I could have educated her on the topic. I have read quite extensively about arterial blood flow."

"Can we never talk about sexual organs when my mother is around?" Jane pleads.

"I do not see why not, Jane. She had three children, I am sure she is well informed on sex-"

"No, no, _no_." And she would add another ten no's if she thought that would help. "No sex talk about or around my mother." A wince. "Ever."

Maura regards Jane with amusement for a bit.

"But she is not here any more." There is something _seductive_ about how Maura says it. Something provocative and dangerous.

Jane blinks at her. At a loss for words. She is not sure what the danger is, but there is danger in Maura's eyes right now.

"Blood flowing to sexual organs is what causes excitement both in men and women, Jane," Maura adds. "Indeed, case studies on this topic demonstrate that the pulsing on the clitoris that women describe when they are excited is entirely caused by blood flowing to female genitalia."

"Maura," Jane warns, her voice so low it is hard to hear it.

"Female sexuality is such an interesting topic," Maura says excitedly. "Recent research by the University of Washington indicates that women can get sexually stimulated by touches placed in a wide variety of places across their bodies," as Maura explains, she moves her foot under the table, slowly brushing it up Jane's calf with the top of her heeled foot in what feels like an intentional caress.

At the touch, Jane jumps a foot in the air and drops most of the coffee all over the front of her shirt.

"Crap!"

Maura quickly grabs some napkins and tries to help, her hand moving over Jane's chest, fingers sliding lower, towards her right breast, and at one point, entirely cupping it with one hand as she tries to use the napkins to absorb the coffee with the other.

Jane is too stunned to do much more than open and close her mouth like a dying fish, a fierce blush covering her features and reaching all the way to her ears. She is as well as paralysed, that is, until Maura's thumb runs repeatedly over what is a very obviously aroused nipple.

"Enough!" she almost shouts as she hastily removes Maura's hands from her shirt. "Thanks, Maura," she says as she steps back.

Her own hands shake as she runs them over her ruined shirt, trying to smooth down her nipples in what she hopes is an inconspicuous way.

She is flustered, and embarrassed, and aroused, and having blood flow to places south of her chest, and her damn nipples are clearly visible through the stained shirt.

_Down, Rizzoli. _She curses her body for reacting so violently, so obviously for Maura's keen eyes to see.

"I-, um," she shakes her head, not daring to make eye contact, letting her hair cover her face, "I'm going to go change, ok. See you later, Maura."

Jane Rizzoli does _not_ run away from anything.

She _walks briskly _towards the elevator.

xxx


	5. Chapter 5

**The DHS Study (Part 5)**

A/N: Guys, the fluff is starting to creep in.

xxx

CHAPTER V

Both Jane and Maura work hard the following week, and when they see each other, they are too busy with the case to be really embarrassed about the 'nipple-mocha incident,' as Jane has started to refer to it in her own head.

That is, until late on Thursday, when Jane goes by Maura's office, frustrated by their lack of progress.

According to Maura, Matthew Parr had died of a single blow to the head. There was no water in his lungs, so he had not drown. He had not been molested before dying. That had been a relief to everyone. The murder weapon had not been found yet, but Maura thought it could had easily been one of the rocks lying around the pond, given the shape of the head injury. A forensic team had combed the area, and now Maura had dozens of rocks to analyse.

"Are these the contains of the ice?" Jane asks, pointing at a table covered with a white plastic sheet and a number of objects of different sizes and shapes.

"Yes, Susie has sorted them chronologically. You can see the markers on the top side with our estimates for when each layer was created." Maura explains.

It had been a slow and tedious process, but they had finally been able to melt all the ice and retrieve the items that had been captured in the water as the ice formed. They may contain important clues as to what had happened. According to Maura, Matthew had likely been in the water since the week when he disappeared, although she could not narrow the window to precisely which day.

Jane scans the contents of the ice. Right at the end, something catches her eye: a bit of green plastic. She points to it. "Maura, what's that?"

Maura moves towards the table to see what Jane means, brushing against her and making Jane take a small step back. "I am not sure," she says. It is a small, slightly bent, square of plastic, no bigger than 60 millimetres at its larger side, with a rounded end on one side and a jagged one on the other. "This was right at the bottom of the ice. I think we may have broken it off when we excavated the ice. Plastics are partially crystalline in molecular structure. At such low temperatures a natural cut would had been cleaner."

Jane frowns. "So the rest of whatever this is could still be in the ice?"

"It is certainly possible. Do you think it is relevant to the case?" Maura asks.

"Maybe. Can you send a team to see if they can find it?"

"Of course," she takes off her gloves and reaches into the pocket of her black scrubs for her phone. "Let me text Susie, she can take care of this."

"Ok," Jane sighs. "This is a frustrating case, with the forensic evidence coming back so slowly." She rubs her hands as she talks. "We've been able to piece together the last few hours of Matthew's known whereabouts. He was supposed to be twenty miles away from that pond." Jane explains. "Korsak and Frankie are following up on a few leads, but I don't really want to bring in people until we have more information. I hate interrogating suspects when _I_ don't know any of the answers to the questions we are making."

Maura nods and again moves closer to Jane's right side, to look at an item on the table, her shoulder brushing Jane's chest and making Jane jump back, startled.

Maura regards her inquisitively. "Are you all right, Jane? I never asked, did you get a burn from the coffee that you dropped?" Maura asks with some concern as she stares at Jane's chest and rises her hand as if she is going to touch Jane again. "The skin of the areola is particularly sensitive."

"What?" Jane blinks and has to consciously tell herself to keep her arms at her sides and not try to cover her chest with them. "No, it was not that hot."

That makes Maura smile. For a moment, she is tempted to attempt a joke, but she is not entirely sure of the colloquial use of the word 'hot,' aside from her dealings with Giovanni, and so, in the end, she just nods. "I thought it was not a worrying temperature when I tried to help. That is why I had not followed up on this sooner," Maura explains. She does not want Jane to think she is not concerned for her.

"Yeah, well, let's never talk about this again, ok? I cannot believe I threw that coffee on myself in front of all those cops." She groans. Not to mention her Ma, who had been watching them like a hawk.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about, Jane, the tissue of your mammary glands is very dense and you have well developed pectoralis muscles," Maura says smiling towards her, and Jane thinks, sneaking yet another look at her boobs.

Jane is stunned for a moment. "Is that your scientific way of saying I have a nice rack?"

Maura tilts her head slightly to the side, narrowing her eyes a bit. "Rack? I meant to say that you have very nicely formed breasts. Indeed, anatomically speaking, you are a very fine specimen, Jane. Your bone structure and musculature are exceptional."

A hasty gulp, a bark of laughter and a roll of eyes later, Jane finally replies. "If this is how you try to woo a girl, I think your game needs fine tunning, Maura. Not sure it'll work on most of them."

It is a lie, of course.

It _totally_ works on Jane.

"But, Jane, why would I want to woo a girl? I am 42 years old. It is very unlikely that I would be interested in anyone half my age." Maura says, confused. "Extant research on the topic would suggest age disparity in sexual relationships is likely to lead to lower satisfaction."

"What-, no. No. I wasn't trying to imply that you were a cougar, Maura."

"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous, Jane. Why would anyone suspect me of being a mountain lion?" Maura frowns adorably, crossing her arms and making her scrubs top shift over her shoulder, a lacy black strap showing.

Jane hates herself for noticing. For imagining the_ rest_ of the bra. For letting her eyes roam over Maura's neck, her pinned up hair, and the few blonde tendrils that have escaped her ponytail. For wondering how her skin would taste like. For wanting to reach out, move that bra strap out of the way and kiss Maura's creamy skin.

She rubs her forehead wearily. Talking to Maura takes_ all_ of her mental power and Jane is really not on top form.

She makes a face. "Maura, I-, well, I guess I just wanted to apologize, really."

Maura blinks in surprise. "Why?" She uncrosses her arms and takes a step towards Jane, reaching for her arm.

Jane flinches at the touch, making Maura also flinch and drop her hand.

"No. Wait." Jane says as she reaches for Maura's hand.

"I'm a bit embarrassed by what happened last Friday, ok? you know-, when you-, when you touched my-, when you were helping with the coffee," Jane cringes at her inability to say the words. Then, she squeezes Maura's hand, her thumb running over the back of it as she finally dares to make eye contact. "I'd really hate it if you thought I'd done something inappropriate, Maura."

Maura is silent for a moment, and Jane can almost see the gears turning in Maura's brain as the doctor goes over the events of the past Friday, trying to understand what precisely Jane may be referring to. Maura recalls Jane's actions and words, how she had grabbed officer Lopez by the tie and told him not to make fun of Maura ever again, only without having to actually say it. How she had stared down every single cop on the café. Jane defending her like that had given Maura feelings that she had struggled to categorize. She had spent most of the weekend thinking about it. In the end, she had decided just to enjoy how happy it had made her, and not over think it. The only conclusion she had really reached was that Jane's behaviour probably had to do with that intangible thing Jane liked to refer to as 'having each other's backs.'

Jane can easily see in Maura's face the moment when she finally understands.

The thing is, Maura _always_ understands, just not often at the time when Jane would want her to.

"You are referring to your nipple erection?" Maura finally asks.

Trust Maura to cut right to the heart of the matter and to find the most embarrassing way to do it.

If Jane has ever blushed harder than she is right now, she cannot remember it.

"Yeah," she finally mumbles as she shrugs her shoulders.

"But, Jane, you should not worry about that. The erection of nipples is due to the contraction of smooth muscle under the control of the automatic nervous system. It is akin to a hair follicle standing on end." She says as if that explains anything.

At Jane's look of confusion, Maura does something completely unexpected, she turns Jane hand in hers and places it on her own chest. "See?" she says as she presses Jane's hand to her breast and Jane feels the nipple underneath tightening. "Nipple erection can be caused by a tactile response in both males and females, it is nothing to be embarrassed about."

If her voice is a little breathy, Jane is too busy doing cartwheels in her own mind to take notice.

And Jane's mind is a mess of thoughts, really. Chief amongst them is a voice shouting "Jesus Christ," at approximately the same decibel level as the Concorde taking off. Maura's breast is hard, and soft, and rounded, and really quite a bit larger than Jane's own breasts are, and_ oh my god_ Jane can feel her nipple.

There is this incredible heat that travels from Jane's hand, up her arm, and hits her chest with the force of a two-by-four, leaving her gasping for breath.

"Dr. Isles?" Susie Chang walks into the lab, "we have some puzzling results-," she blinks as she takes in what she just saw, "-from the ice," she trails off. Was that Detective Rizzoli's hand on Dr. Isles' breast? _Surely not_. "Do you want me to come back later?" She blinks at Jane's scowl, taking an inconspicuous step to the side, moving closer to the door. Just in case.

"No!" Jane squeaks out. "No. I was just leaving. I'll let you two work. We need those results as soon as possible."

"Jane-," Maura starts.

"Maura," Jane interrupts. "It's fine. I'll call you later if there are any breaks in the case."

With a parting glare for a still blinking Susie, Jane leaves the morgue.

xxx

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Korsak finally asks.

"Huh?" Jane says stupidly.

"Precisely," says Korsak. "Your head's not in the game, Jane," he says around a large bite of his burger. "You're distracted."

She glares at Korsak. If she is, she certainly will _not_ admit it.

And she is, because she just had her damn hand on Maura's breast. And it had felt wonderful, and she must remember to go to church this Sunday to say thanks, because it must had taken the intervention of the Holy Spirit not to freaking squeeze her fingers and push Maura against the wall.

So what if she is distracted. She is almost proud of herself that she is not sitting on the floor in a poodle of her own drool, because that is really how she feels right now.

She wants to talk to Maura, explain things. Let her know she wants what they had before, but also,_ more. _

She frowns. If she can grow some balls, anyway.

The trouble is that if she has learned anything from the absolute debacle that was her marriage and all the events that followed, ending up with the nipple-mocha series, is that there is no way _she_ can go back.

It is not Maura. It is Jane. Maura had always touched her in slightly inappropriate ways, always stood too damn close. And it was never truly all right, but Jane had grown used to it. Like that frog metaphor... throw one into water that slowly heats, and it would get used to the scorching heat, die slowly in the water. Throw one into already boiling water, it will jump out.

She is that frog. _Frog face Rizzoli._ Thrown into boiling waters that she cannot negotiate without acting like an embarrassed teenager with a raging girl crush.

She runs her fingers over her long wild hair, pulling it back from her face.

"I was thinking about some evidence Maura found in the ice," she finally says. She winces as she looks at Korsak. "Can you_ please_ close your freaking mouth when you chew?" She grumbles. "And wipe your mouth, for heaven's sake."

"Well, excuse me, Mizz Manners," Korsak says, unrepentant. He cleans his mouth with the back of his sleeve and raises his eyebrows as he looks at her over his glasses, gently amused. Jane Rizzoli is a good egg; brave and honest and hard-working and a true damn hero. The best partner he's ever had. "What evidence?"

"A bit of plastic, green plastic." She digs around her table, pushing away the container with her mostly untouched dinner. "Here," she says as she passes Korsak two pictures. In one, there is the piece of plastic; the other is a picture of a smiling Matthew Parr wearing big, plastic lime-green glasses.

Korsak reaches for the pictures, regarding them quietly side-by-side as Jane continues speaking.

"I think it's a part of his glasses, we didn't find them with the body, and according to his parents, Matthew saw very little without them."

"You think they are at the bottom of the lake?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Korsak nods as he passes back the pictures, "why would that be important?"

Jane shrugs. "I don't know, something has been bugging me about this case. I know there are some similarities with the Charles Martin case, but we haven't really been able to draw any meaningful links between the two. I don't know. Maybe they're not related," she shakes her head. "Just a hunch."

Korsak only nods. He does not say anything. There is no need; it is their code, they follow up on each other's hunches. _Always._ No questions asked. It has saved both their lives more than once.

"I've been following up a bit on the Parrs. I thought she was quite a bit younger than the husband." Korsak says.

"Yeah," Jane says. "Smelt of second marriage for him."

Korsak nods and passes Jane a folder. "His third, in fact. He has two children from the first wife; a boy named James that attends BCU, and a girl, named Beth. She is a lawyer in Denver."

"I talked to the boy briefly on the phone," Korsak shrugs. "I don't know. There was something about him, it may be worth bringing him in for questioning."

Jane just nods and makes a note. She will call him tomorrow and schedule an interview. "Ok."

Korsak checks his watch. It is past 8PM. He stands up, throwing what little remains of his burger into the trash.

He stretches and puts on his jacket.

Jane thinks he has had that particular jacket since she knows him.

"Well, I'm off," Korsak says. "By the way, Angela invited me to Sunday dinner," he pauses as he smooths down his tie. "At the doc's place."

Jane looks up. "She hasn't said anything to me." Of course she has been avoiding her mother like the plague this week, not picking up the phone or reading her text messages, but she does not mention that.

Korsak shrugs. "You know if everything is ok again with the doc? She is starting to be a bit more like her old self."

Jane smiles at that. "Yeah, she is."

"Well, I'm sure you're also invited, Jane. I'll bring something for dessert." Korsak says as he walks towards the elevator.

"Please, don't," Jane calls after him, recalling the caloric chocolate monstrosity Korsak had brought last time he was invited.

xxx

On Friday, they all end up at the Dirty Robber, which is now under new management and back to the old style: a dingy bar where a bunch of toughened-by-life cops can feel right at home and try to drink each other under the table.

They have two unsolved children deaths on their desks. They all need a drink before going home.

Jane is already on her second beer when she decides to text Maura and ask her to join them. She does not really bother to check if Maura answers, because these days, Maura doesn't always reply. So it is a bit of a surprise when a couple of beers later, when she stands to walk to the counter to order another round, she walks into a soft body that is suddenly blocking the way: Maura.

"I think you have had enough." Maura says.

Jane is on her way to being nicely inebriated, so she leans precariously close to Maura as she answers. Maura does not step back.

"Wanna join us for a beer, Maura? We've been really lonely without you," Jane drawls.

She sounds like she is somewhat drunk, because she is. Also, like she is hitting on Maura.

Maybe she is as well.

A lot of things have changed for Jane in these last few years. Not everything about her life is as set on stone as she once thought it was.

Maybe she _likes_ Maura.

Although, to be honest, there is really no _maybe_ about it.

Maura orders another round for everyone and pushes Jane towards the booth, and arm easily going around Jane's slim waist as they walk. Frankie and Korsak are already there, sitting together on one side of the booth and looking a bit the worse for the weather. Jane and Maura sit opposite from them.

The waiter soon brings their drinks.

"The last round," Maura says.

"To Frost," Korsak says as he raises his glass. It's been three years, this summer, since Frost died. Last round, always, goes to him when Korsak is around.

"To Frost," answers Frankie, taking a long pull of his beer.

"To Frost," answers Maura after a moment, taking a small sip of her wine.

Jane just sits quietly. She is still not ready to join in, she does not know if she ever will.

They all fall into easy conversation after that, even Maura joins in a bit. Although most of the time, she just smiles and nods. Happy to be amongst friends. _My friends_, she thinks and she has to blink a few times. That connection between her amygdala and her lacrimal glands acting up, as usual, at the least convenient of times.

It is not long before Korsak finishes his drink, makes his excuses and leaves the other three at the table. It is also not long before Frankie joins another table, leaving Maura and Jane alone.

Maura turns in the booth, "maybe we should also go?"

Jane nods. "Yeah," she finishes her beer, "let's go."

Maura ends up acting as a taxi driver for Jane. It is a short ride, but by the time they get to her flat, Jane is sound asleep, her head resting against the window. She is smiling and mumbling in her sleep. Maura regards the dark woman for a long time in silence. Jane looks peaceful, content even. It is a strange look on the always intense woman. She reaches to move a dark tendril of hair out of Jane's face, touching her cheek slightly and waking her up.

"What." Jane says as she jumps awake. Immediately aware of her surroundings. Immediately suspicious. It takes a second longer than usual to realize where she is, and with whom.

She has sobered up a bit, but not much.

Maura talks to her in a low voice, her hand still touching Jane, moving another stray lock of thick hair behind Jane's ear, her fingers lightly caressing the soft strands for a moment, before dropping her hand to Jane's thigh. "We are at your place."

Jane reaches up to rub her eyes, trying to remove the bit of drool that is in the corner of her mouth as she makes a show of rubbing her cheeks. "Thanks, Maura." She is reluctant to move. She likes feeling Maura's hand on her leg.

"What were you dreaming about?" Maura asks.

"Hmm?"

"You were groaning and smiling," Maura says. "Was it a sex dream?" She asks with a smile and a hint of mischief.

This is a game they have played often in the past. "What?" Jane is not fully awake yet. "I don't know."

"It is perfectly normal to have that type of dream, Jane. In fact, according to an article I read in the Journal of Sleep and Sleep Disorders Research, around 8% of all dreams have sexual content."

Jane gives her a lopsided smile. "And what precisely _were_ you researching on that made you read about that, doctor?" She asks in a mockingly scandalized tone.

That makes Maura laugh. "The study also concluded that sexual dreams can be caused by sexual frustration. It would be normal for you to be sexually frustrated, Jane. After all, you must had been used to frequent and satisfying sexual relations during your marriage, and now-"

"Maura," Jane interrupts, changing the mood. "Can we not talk about my marriage?"

Maura looks hurt for a moment, but she recovers quickly. "Of course, it is none of my business, Jane. I am sorry."

"It _is_ your business, Maura, but not now, ok?" she covers Maura's hand, still on her thigh, with her own. "I'm, well-, I'm a bit drunk, and between last Friday and yesterday, well-," she is thinking about how her hand had felt on Maura's chest, how Maura's hand had felt on hers. "We really need to talk, Maura," she adds, voice lower than her usual already low register, "but I need to be completely sober for this conversation, ok?"

Maura nods, something in her eyes clearing. "Ok."

"Good." Jane says. "But we won't be taking about my sex life with Casey." Jane shudders at the thought. "Ever."

"You have always been a bit conservative about this, Jane. But talking about your sexual desires and preferences can be very enjoyable, if you do it with the right person."

"Maura." Jane warns, but there's now a smile in her eyes.

Maura is quiet for a minute after that. They are seated side by side on the car. "Are you all right going up on your own?" Maura finally asks.

Jane takes a moment to reply. It is a chance to get Maura to come up to her apartment, maybe ask her to stay the night. She wants Maura there, with her, desperately. But she is sober enough to know now is not the time. It is best that she sleeps before she tries to talk to Maura about anything. "Yeah, don't worry. I'll make it." She grins sheepishly. "Sorry we are such a bunch of unruly drunks."

"I am glad to be included in your group, you know that, Jane. Just be careful with the steps."

"Yeah. I'll see you Sunday, right?" Jane says, and Maura nods. "Ok. 'Night," and before she loses her nerve, she reaches across the seat and kisses Maura's cheek, lingering for longer than is acceptable between friends. Maura closes her eyes at the touch, turning her face more fully and managing to catch some of Jane's own cheek with her lips as Jane pulls back.

"Goodnight," Maura whispers and gives Jane a smile.

Once she exists the car, Jane takes a deep breath, the cold air of the Boston night burns her lungs, but it helps.

She walks towards her door, careful with her footing, feeling a bit more drunk than she should, given what she drank.

She hears Maura's car start just as she closes the door behind her.

Jane is still smiling by the time she slips into bed.

xxx


End file.
